“Guess I must be getting a case of nerves,” Tom said to himself, grimly. “That won’t do!”
He tried to turn in bed, but such pains shot through his whole frame that he gave it up, and lay as he was. Finally, due either to the reaction, or to some opiate the doctor had given him, he fell into a heavy slumber.
Tom felt much better when he awakened. The orderly was near him, and asked:
“Do you want anything, Mr. Taylor?”
“Something cool to drink?”
“Yes, sir. The doctor said you might have a bit of iced lemonade, and some fruit—oranges, perhaps?”
“I’ll take lemonade. It’s night, isn’t it?”
“Lights have just been turned on; yes, sir. Some of your friends were in to see you, but the doctor thought it best not to awaken you.”
“Who were they?”
“Mr. Leland, Mr. Houston and Mr. Wilson,” the orderly replied, consulting a list he had evidently prepared.